


An Honest Song

by moonlight_mile



Series: as we gather 'round this table [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mistletoe, Roommates, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:37:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_mile/pseuds/moonlight_mile
Summary: Louis cuts him off. “Listen, I know how her mind works. Now that she has it in her head that you and me, that we’re, you know, she’s not going to believe a word otherwise. Just trust me on this, okay?”Harry stares straight ahead through the windshield. He swallows, afraid of the answer to his next question. “So like, do we...what do we do, then?”Louis glances over at him again, a slightly manic gleam in his eye. “You any good at acting, Styles?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizee/gifts).



> This fic was undeniably a labor of love (emphasis on labor). When I started it, I was in a very different place in my life than I am now, at the end of it. Truthfully, I had plans for more, but life happened and I adjusted accordingly.
> 
> A shoutout to [Amber](http://loveloveolivia.tumblr.com/), who beta'd the first part for me and let me bounce so many ideas off her. The story would have never taken shape without her advice, input, and encouragement.
> 
> And a major shoutout to [Kayla](http://churchrat.tumblr.com), who stepped up and beta'd a huge chunk in the middle of the fic and encouraged me right at the end, when I didn't think I'd actually be able to finish.
> 
> The original prompt, from lizee:  
> Harry can't get a flight home for Christmas, so his flatmate, Louis, invites him home for Christmas Eve since he doesn't want to leave his best mate alone at the flat. Unfortunately, Louis' family interprets it as Louis bringing someone home for the first time in years and Harry, being the nice guy he is, plays along with it. What he doesn't expect is to actually develop feelings for him. (This can be as fluffy or as smutty as you'd like.)
> 
> A fake relationship AU featuring a lot of confused Gay thoughts about what he thought was a platonic best friend and lots of fluffy Tomlinson family moments and traditions.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (title from the song Honest Songs by Noah Gundersen)
> 
> Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/lexicaroline/playlist/7i6eCWB0ybEUE0PJJGoczj)!

It’s 8 p.m. on Wednesday, December 21st, and Louis comes home to an empty apartment. Humming a few bars of the Christmas tune he’d heard on the car radio on his way home from work, he hangs up his scarf and coat just inside the door

“Merry fucking Christmas to me, right?” comes drawling from the darkened living room and Louis lets out an undignified squeak of terror. So much for an empty apartment.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, what the fuck are you doing here? Wasn’t your flight—” Louis glances at the dry erase board on the refrigerator door. “—six hours ago?”

“Yes, Lewis, my flight _was_ six hours ago, except then it was cancelled.” There’s a shuffling sound, and then mumbled cursing as Harry struggles to rise from his blanket nest on the couch. He ambles into the kitchen doorway, leaning on the frame with a near-empty bottle of Merlot clutched in one hand.

“Well shit, Harry...you can catch another flight, right?”

Harry’s shoulders sag forward. He swipes a hand over his face and looks a little bit like he could burst into tears. “Have you even _seen_ the news this week?”

Before Louis can even answer that—no, he definitely has _not_ seen the news, has barely had time to look at his own Facebook—, Harry is barreling on. “The entire state of Wisconsin is literally _buried_ in snow and it is still snowing as we speak.” 

Harry has started pacing. “It’s not like we aren’t used to snow, for Christ’s sake, but the Governor has declared a state of emergency. The school my mom teaches at has been out for three days. Do you even know how much it has to snow in Wisconsin for school to get called off?”

Harry stops, takes a breath, and then finishes off the Merlot in one swig.

Louis is sure his eyes are bugging out of his head. He’s shared an apartment with Harry for nearly six months, ever since his friend Liam mentioned that his friend Niall had a friend whose roommate was getting married and essentially kicking him out of their apartment. Louis had been considering bringing a roommate in to cut his own costs, so he’d agreed to meet Harry and see if they got along well enough to consider it. They clicked instantly, and they’ve become closer friends in that time than one could reasonably expect, but he has never once seen Harry look quite so out-of-control.

“I just…” Harry is quieter now, his voice a little thick with unshed tears. “I know I was home at Thanksgiving, but then I had to leave, and then Harper was born two days after I left.” Harry sniffs a little. “My first niece is already three weeks old and I haven’t even met her yet.”

Louis makes an involuntary noise of sympathy at that. He had been in the second semester of his senior year of undergrad when his mom had given birth to his youngest siblings—twins, Ernest and Doris. He wasn’t even in a different state from his family then, just a couple of hours away, but a full course load and bills to pay had kept him from seeing them for nearly two weeks. His heart breaks a little at the thought of Harry missing out any longer than he already has on seeing his new niece.

“Harry, that just...damn,” Louis is a little bit out of his depth, here. Screaming babies and moody teenage girls, he can handle; how the fuck is he supposed to comfort his best friend, a grown man?

Louis gently pries the empty wine bottle from Harry’s grip. “Listen, I know I literally just walked in the door, and you’ve clearly already got a head start on me, but let’s run out and grab a 6-pack and some fried rice, yeah? Nothing like alcohol and MSG to make you feel better.”

Harry’s head slumps forward and he sniffs again. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, and then looks back up at Louis, blinking away a few tears. “Sorry for being so dramatic.”

“No, man, listen.” Louis jumps to reassure him, “I have five little sisters. I know drama, and this is _not_ it.”

Harry looks just a hair less downtrodden as he smirks and says, “Bet you’re the most dramatic of the bunch.”

Louis just whacks him on the forehead and turns back toward the front door. “Make yourself decent and get your ass in gear,” he calls over his shoulder. “If you’re not in the car in thirty seconds I’m leaving you. _And_ I’m telling them to leave out the water chestnuts!”

“Noooo,” Harry wails as he stumbles out of his bedroom, halfway through pulling an extremely faded Green Bay Packers hoodie over his head. “You know those are my favorite!”

–––––

Two hours later, Louis and Harry are sprawled on the couch, greasy styrofoam takeout containers and five empty beer bottles lined up on the coffee table before them. Harry, still sufficiently wine drunk, had called it quits after a beer and a half. Louis had made it his mission to catch up to him and had managed to chug three on his own and finish Harry’s beer as well.

“You’re not a quitter, go on.” Harry’s voice is a bit muffled from the throw pillow he’s clutching to his chest, the bottom half of his face snuggled in, but Louis can see that he’s nodding toward the last beer.

“I have to work tomorrow.” Louis’ tone isn’t really an argument, more of a casual observation.

“Four and a half beers is nothing for you, come on!” Harry is giggly-drunk now, which is an improvement on crying-drunk, at least. He’s trying to rile Louis up, and Louis is perfectly aware of it.

Still, he needs to at least put up a good front. “I have to work tomorrow, until at least 7:30, and then I have to come back and pack for my trip home, because I’m a dirty procrastinator,and then I have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and drive four hours out to the sticks to see my family.”

Shit. Wrong thing to say.

Harry’s mood goes dark in an instant. “At least you fucking _get_ to see your family for Christmas. I’ll be here. Alone. We don’t even have a Christmas tree.”

Looking back, Louis will recognize this moment as the moment that changed everything. Right now, though, all he sees is his best friend, facing the prospect of a lonely Christmas. He can’t let that happen. Family is the most important thing to both of them: one of the many things they had in common, something they had bonded over in their first few months as roommates.

“Come with me.” Louis’ tone is sure, decisive.

Harry tosses the pillow at his head and grumbles, “Don’t be a jerk. I can’t just show up last-minute at someone else’s family Christmas like that.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Politeness was never his strong suit, and Harry is polite to a fault. Except when he’s throwing pillows at people who are just trying to salvage his holiday.

“Seriously, Harry? My mom has seven kids. Lottie and Fizzy are both bringing people with them. There’s always at least one or two neighbors or family friends there.” Louis pokes Harry in the ribs with his big toe. “One extra isn’t going to make a difference. Besides, I know you’re new to the South, but there’s no way you haven’t noticed the whole ‘ _Southern Hospitality_ ’ thing.”

Harry looks thoughtful for a moment, before he tentatively asks, “You really think no one will mind?”

Louis rolls his eyes again. “Of course they won’t mind, dumbass. They’ll be thrilled to have someone new to interrogate and then gossip about.”

“If you’re sure…” Harry begins. He tugs on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, a nervous habit Louis’ noticed. “If you’re _really_ sure...then yeah, I guess I’ll go? I mean, I’m already off work.”

“Great! It’s settled.” Louis reaches for the last beer on the coffee table. “Since you’re coming with, you can get started on my packing while I’m working tomorrow.”

Harry scoffs, but Louis knows that he’ll come home to a neatly packed suitcase tomorrow evening. He’s aware he should probably feel bad about letting his roommate pick up after him all the time like Harry does, but it works for them. Louis kills all the creepy bugs and spiders that Harry won’t go near and fixes Harry’s beat-up old Honda when it won’t start; Harry keeps the house from looking like a pigsty. It might be a little domestic for platonic roommates—but, Louis thinks fondly, it works for them.

–––––

Louis’ first thought when he wakes to the jarring tone of his alarm is that that last beer had _definitely_ been a mistake. _Shit, I’m getting old_ , is his second thought. He grudgingly rolls out of bed and trudges into the hallway, wincing at how brightly-lit the rest of the apartment already is. Harry is bustling around in the kitchen, from the sound of it, and how, exactly, is he already so _alive_ this early in the morning?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Louis grumbles when he enters the kitchen, and Harry turns to face him with a slightly manic grin.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” He turns back around to open the oven door and take something out, placing the pan on the stovetop and pulling off his oven mitt. “Couldn’t sleep this morning because I kept making my packing list in my head, and then I remembered that we had some milk in the fridge that’s gonna go bad soon, plus I just bought eggs, _and_ some fresh produce that I don’t want to let spoil while we’re gone, so I had to make a quiche. To use it all up.”

Louis stares at him blankly. He snaps his mouth shut when he realizes it’s fallen open just a bit.

“I can cut you a piece once it cools?” Harry offers. Louis just nods absently as he makes his way to the cabinet to pull down a coffee cup.

“We need to go for breakfast at Clyde’s one day while we’re at my mom’s place,” Louis muses as he fills the mug.

“Who’s Clyde?” Harry asks.

Louis laughs. “Not a who. Well, not anymore, I don’t think. Clyde’s Restaurant, back home.” He turns the mug before taking a sip of coffee, so that Harry can read the old-fashioned diner logo printed on it. “Worked there all through high school, and for a couple of summers before I moved to Boone full-time,” he explains. “You’d think I’d have gotten sick of it, but I kinda miss it sometimes.”

“That sounds nice. I’m sure it’s great.” Harry pulls two plates from the cabinet and a pie server from the drawer, knocking it closed with his hip as he turns back to cut them each a slice of quiche.

Louis snorts. “The food isn’t that great, to be honest, but it’s always hot and it fills you up. It’s really the atmosphere of the place I miss, you know?” He takes his plate from Harry and loads a bite of quiche onto his fork. “Haven’t found anything like it in Nashville yet. Too many tourists and hipsters.”

Harry hums in agreement and digs into his own breakfast. “Well, we’ll definitely have to make a stop there. Were you a waiter?”

“Only when they it really got busy and they needed me,” Louis answers, putting his fork down to pick up the crust from the edge of the quiche with his fingers. “Mostly I just washed dishes.”

“Oh, we _definitely_ have to go there.” Harry says with a note of finality, like it had been his idea in the first place. Louis glances up at him, confused. Harry grins. “Well, I have to see what kind of magical place this must be, if they were immune to your unparallelled clean-up-avoiding skills.”

Louis tosses a dish towel at the back of Harry’s head from where he stands by the sink, pointedly placing his plate and mug on the countertop instead of in the soapy water Harry had run.

“Oh, shit, look at the time.” Louis glances at an imaginary wristwatch, walking backward out of the kitchen and toward the bathroom. “I gotta get a shower and get to work, lots to get done...”

“Excuses!” Harry calls after him with a laugh as he puts his own dishes—and Louis’—into the sink and begins to wash up.

–––––

Harry opens his suitcase, already packed for his trip to Wisconsin, and then opens the weather app on his phone and looks up Waynesville, North Carolina. He assumes the weather there will be similar to what they’re getting in Nashville, but it might not a bad idea to double-check before he switches out some of the heavier winter clothes he had packed in preparation for Milwaukee.

Glancing over the forecast for the next week, he chuckles a little at the thought of Christmastime with sunny skies and highs in the upper forties. It’s not warm, but it’s got nothing on a Wisconsin winter.

He pulls a couple of thick sweaters and scarves out of the suitcase and hangs them in his closet, opting to pack just one scarf and a light fleece jacket. He’s just turning back to the open suitcase on his bed when he hears a phone ringing from another room. Out of habit, he checks the front pocket of his jeans, even though he had definitely just put his phone back there when he had finished FaceTiming with his sister.

Louis must have forgotten his phone when he left for work this morning. He hopes that the call isn’t important, since it’ll be hours still before Louis makes it home.

The ringing stops, and Harry determines that he’s as packed and ready as he’ll ever be. He zips his suitcase and places it next to his bedroom door before moving along to try and get Louis’ luggage situation under control.

Just as he opens the door to Louis’ bedroom, the phone starts ringing again. Frowning, Harry walks around the bed to where Louis’ phone is still laying on the nightstand, plugged into the charger. A picture of a middle-aged woman with dark hair and the same crinkle-eyed smile as Louis lights up the screen. Even without the identical smiles, Harry would have recognized her immediately from the family photos Louis has hanging around the apartment. There’s also the fact that the top of the screen informs him that “Mom” is calling.

He hesitates for a moment, then decides to let it go to voicemail. Surely whatever it is can wait until Louis gets home from work.

He manages, with some difficulty, to locate Louis’ suitcase: in the back of his closet, buried under clothes that Harry has never seen him wear in the entire time they’ve been living together. 

“What the _fuck_ , Louis?” Harry says aloud, with a laugh, as he disentangles a shirt of his own from the pile—a shirt that he had written off as a total loss, vanished to that mysterious place only lost socks go. He tosses the t-shirt back toward the door to pick up later and carefully hefts the suitcase out of the closet. Placing it on the unmade bed, he unzips it, leaving it open as he crosses the room toward Louis’ dresser.

He’s just reaching for the underwear drawer—top left—when Louis’ phone rings again.

Harry sighs and crosses back to the nightstand to see that, yes, Louis’ mom is calling again. He chews his lip for a moment before deciding that he should probably answer. She’s called at least three times now, so it must be something important. Right?

He unplugs the phone and swipes his finger across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Lou—you’re not Louis.”

Harry wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, crossing back to the dresser again. “No, I’m sorry. I guess he left his phone here this morning when he went to work. Did you need to talk to him about something?”

 

Harry opens the drawer and begins counting out pairs of underwear, mentally ticking off the days they plan on staying in North Carolina.

“Oh, no, honey, I just wanted to let him know that I’m so excited that y’all are both coming! Oh, gosh, I didn’t even introduce myself! I guess you caught on that I’m Louis’ mama. You can call me Jay, honey.”

“Nice to finally speak with you, Mrs. Deakin,” Harry answers absentmindedly. They’ll be staying for six days, and Louis has five clean pairs of underwear in his drawer. He turns toward the closet to check the hamper— _god_ , he’s probably going to have at least three loads of laundry to do now—and the phone slips out of his hold and bounces onto the carpet.

Harry quickly scrambles to pick it up, but Jay seems to have continued without pause.

“—older girls can stay in their old room with Daisy and Phoebe, you know, it’s not a problem at all. I wouldn’t dream of making y’all stay in the living room.”

“That’s nice, yeah,” Harry mumbles, tipping the hamper over to begin sorting clothes. “Where the _fuck_ does he put all of his underwear?” he mutters under his breath.

“Pardon me?”

Oh. Shit. Louis’ mom. On the phone.

“Oh my gosh, Mrs. Deakin, I am so, so sorry. Please excuse my language.” Harry can feel his face turning bright red as he rushes to apologize. “I’m trying to get Lou’s bag packed and he just—there weren’t enough underwear in the drawer,and then they weren’t in the dirty clothes—”

Laughing, Jay cuts him off. “Oh, honey, it’s fine. Lord knows I’ve heard worse. That boy of ours sure does know how to make a mess, doesn’t he?”

Harry is still reeling a little from the embarrassment of swearing while on the phone with someone’s _mom_ , but he manages a weak laugh.

“And I _told_ you, call me Jay! Anyway, I was just trying to check in with Louis, make sure y’all’s plan hasn’t changed.”

“Louis said we should leave by eight in the morning, but I’m probably going to try to get him going by seven-thirty in case we run into holiday traffic.” Harry’s heart rate has almost returned to normal. He throws together a quick load of light colored laundry from the pile on the floor and gathers it in one arm to head toward the laundry room.

“Oh, that’s perfect, y’all should have no problem making it in time for dinner!”

Harry pauses in front of the washing machine and frowns. “It only takes about four hours to get there, right?”

“Well, with the way Lou drives, probably not that long!”

“So we’ll be there—we should be there by lunch,” Harry clarifies. 

Jay chuckles. “Yes, honey, that’s what I said. You’ll be here around dinnertime. Lord, what are we gonna do with a yankee in the house at Christmas!”

Harry laughs a little, in spite of himself. Jay sounds so warm and friendly, even in the midst of her lighthearted teasing. He opens the lid to the washing machine, ready to throw the load of Louis’ clothes in, but stops when he sees something already in the bottom of it. He squints and leans over the machine to get a better look, and accidentally lets out a howl of laughter.

“Harry, darling, you okay?” Jay asks, sounding more than a little concerned.

Harry tries to compose himself as he dumps the dirty clothes into the washing machine, on top of a pile of Louis’ underwear. Completely dry in the bottom of the washing machine, like he made it that far but got distracted before actually starting the wash cycle.

“Jay, can I ask you a question?”

“What’s wrong, hon?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong at all. I was just wondering- how do you tell someone nicely that sometimes it might be more helpful to _not_ try to help?”

“Oh, dear, what has he done?” Jay asks knowingly, with a hint of good-natured exasperation.

“Oh, well, I found all of Lou’s underwear. They actually made it to the washing machine.”

“Well, that’s a good start. Did he forget to switch them to the dryer? Because I have a _great_ secret for getting that funky smell–”

Harry cuts her off. “Oh, no, they _only_ made it to the washing machine. They haven’t even been washed yet.”

“Oh, that boy! Listen, honey, you just call me up if he’s not treating you right. I raised him better than that!”

“Oh no, not at all, he’s a really good guy, I promise,” Harry answers hurriedly, afraid that Jay might think he’s being a little bratty. “I’m just particular about my living space and it’s easier for me to take care of the housework myself. Louis cooks for us a lot, says you taught him everything he knows. I can’t wait to find out if your cooking is as good as he says—”

Jay cuts him off, laughing. “Okay, okay, honey, no need to flatter this old woman. I’ll talk to Louis when he gets home from work, alright?”

“I’ll make sure he calls you,” Harry assures her.

“I’m sure you will, hon. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry. And don’t let Lou forget to pack socks! It’s December, my feet get cold just thinking about him running around with those skinny ankles out.”

Harry laughs again, wondering how many times Louis has been given this lecture. “I’ll be sure to pack some socks for him, I promise. Can’t have those ‘skinny ankles’ getting frostbite.”

“Mmhmm, bless his heart, he worries his mama half to death sometimes. Well, anyway, it was so nice chatting with you, Harry! You have wonderful day.”

“You too, Jay! I’m looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“Bye now, hon.”

 

“Goodbye!” Harry ends the call and smiles. He can definitely see where Louis gets his energy and his quick wit. Jay seems to be the kind of person that twinkles all over, and if it translates so clearly over the phone, he can’t imagine how captivating she’ll be in person.

He wonders about the rest of Louis’ family:his stepdad and his six younger siblings. What will they be like? He can’t imagine a house full of personalities like Louis’ and his mom’s. How much charm and charisma can one family possibly contain?

Harry is still incredibly sad that he’s missing Christmas with his family for the first time in his life, but he’s beginning to get excited by the prospect of Christmas with Louis’ family. Growing up with just one older sister, Gemma, he’s always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.

Shaking himself out of his daydream, he dumps some detergent into the washing machine and starts the cycle. He’s got time to run down to the coffee shop around the corner, where he works nights and weekends, to grab a sandwich for lunch and ask Niall to stop by and pick up their mail while they’re gone.

–––––

It’s 11:45 a.m. before Louis reaches into his pocket and realizes he’s left his phone at home. He had been planning on texting his mom to ask if he needed to pick up a new air mattress—he seems to remember her mentioning an incident with the last one involving Ernie and Doris and the pocket knives they had gotten for their birthday.

He makes a mental note to remember to call or text her when he gets home, and then heads down to the hospital cafeteria to get some lunch. So far this morning, he’s done a group music therapy session with several children undergoing long-term cancer treatments, and then a one-on-one with six-year-old Lucy, too sick to leave her room but strong enough to play along on the toy xylophone while Louis softly played her song requests on the ukulele. He loves his career as a music therapist at the children’s hospital, despite how tough it can be to see so many sick and hurting kids day in and day out.

Louis selects a packaged chicken salad croissant and a bottle of water, then makes his way to where he sees Liam already at a table with his own lunch. He pulls Liam’s earbud out and takes a seat.

“So, Nurse _Li-Li_ , did you know that you have a fan club?” Louis grins and steals a crouton from Liam’s salad.

Liam rolls his eyes but he can’t hide his pleased smile. “You’ve been to see Lucy, I guess?”

Louis swallows a bite of his sandwich and nods. “Yeah, Lucy, but you were also apparently pretty popular with most of my 9:30 group as well. Spencer couldn’t believe it when he found out that you and I were friends. He was going on and on about his ‘most favorite nurse ever,’ who let him borrow his comic books.”

Liam grins again and swats Louis’ hand when he goes for another crouton. “He’s such a cool kid. I’m glad he’s feeling well enough to come to the group sessions now.”

“Yeah, well, once the others realized that he was talking about Li-Li, I had a lot of gushing seven-year-olds on my hands. Jacey and Rachel couldn’t agree on the color of your eyes—let me get a good look here, are they more like a Hershey bar or a Tootsie Roll?”

Liam wrestles Louis’ arm away and tucks his chin to his chest. “Stop it!” He laughs and scoots his chair farther around the table, out of Louis’ reach. Louis picks his sandwich back up and takes a bite.

“So,” Liam says, “you’re off for a few days, aren’t you? Headed back home?”

“Yeah.” Louis takes a drink of water before he continues. “Harry’s getting us all packed up so I don’t leave it to the last minute and forget everything.”

 

“I thought Harry was already in Wisconsin? And what do you mean getting ‘us’ packed?” Liam asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, no, he couldn’t get to Wisconsin. Blizzards, apparently. And then he was so down and out about spending Christmas alone, I had to invite him to come home with me.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice of you. Are you sure he’ll be okay when your family gets ahold of him?” Liam asks, looking a little concerned.

Louis frowns. “What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, nothing bad, it’s just…Well, your family is really...big, and I know your mom can be a little overwhelming. Harry’s family isn’t that big, right?”

Louis laughs. “Oh, Liam. He’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m actually _bringing someone home_. I’m just helping out a friend. They’ll all be on their best behavior, I’ll make sure of that.”

Liam grins. “Whatever you say, bro.”

Louis groans and rolls his eyes. “What have I _told_ you about calling me bro?”

–––––

Harry has just finished the last load of laundry—that pile of clothes in the closet seemed to have grown exponentially by the time he reached the bottom of it—when Louis enters with a loud, “Harry, I’m hoooome!”

“I’m in your room!” Harry calls back, folding a pair of sweatpants and placing them in Louis’ open suitcase.

Louis enters the room and plasters himself to Harry’s back.

“You are the best, best, _best_ friend ever!” he crows appreciatively as he eyes his neatly packed suitcase. “How do you feel about pizza tonight? I’m not letting you cook anything and I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Pizza sounds great! Ham and pineapple, please?”

Louis makes a little sound of disgust. “I can’t believe you always insist on ruining a perfectly good pizza with pineapple. But I _guess_ it can be excused this one time, since you spent the day making sure I won’t spend a week without clean underwear.”

“What would you ever do without me?” Harry laughs as he elbows Louis away from him. “Now go order our pizza and let me finish up here!”

–––––

An hour later, two packed suitcases are waiting by the door and Harry and Louis are stretched out on the couch, full of pizza and beer. Harry had turned the TV to a classic movie channel; Judy Garland is currently on screen singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

Blinking slowly, Harry sniffs a little. Louis lazily tilts his head so that he can see his face.

“Are you _crying_ , Harold?” he asks, with a barely-concealed grin.

Harry groans and rolls over so that his face is hidden in the couch cushions. “Leave me alone,” he mumbles.

Louis sits up and reaches out to squeeze Harry’s shoulder. “No, hey, I get it. This is the first time you won’t be there for Christmas, isn’t it?”

Harry nods, face still hidden in the couch cushion.

“I can’t imagine—I’ve never spent a Christmas away from my family, so I can’t even pretend to know what that must feel like, but listen—hey. Look at me, Harry.”

Harry lets out a deep, shuddering sigh and then rolls over, eyes suspiciously red.

Louis continues. “Look, I know it won’t be the same at all, being with my family instead of yours. But I promise you that we’ll do everything we can to make you feel right at home. Now—” Louis stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “—I think it’s time for bed. Tomorrow is gonna be a big day.”

Harry sniffs again, then wipes his nose on his sleeve and gives Louis a watery grin. “Thanks again for letting me crash your family’s Christmas.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Louis replies with a grin, ruffling Harry’s hair before he heads to his room. “Good night, Harry. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, ‘night,” Harry calls as he makes his way to his own room, singing under his breath. 

_“Let your heart be light…”_

Harry smiles a little to himself. His heart is at least a little bit lighter than it was ten minutes ago, and he supposes that’s all he can ask for.

–––––

At 7:38 a.m. on Friday, December 23, Louis is backing his Subaru out of the driveway. Harry is frankly impressed that they’re running so close to schedule. He swipes Louis’ phone from the cupholder and connects it to the stereo’s bluetooth audio.

“Please don’t make me suffer through your hipster shit,” Louis warns him.

“If it’s hipster shit, why do you still have so much of it saved on your phone?” Harry counters, tapping the playlist that he had put together for Louis a few weeks ago. A soft acoustic melody fills the car, and Louis rolls his eyes.

He doesn’t complain anymore, though.

–––––

After a quick detour through a McDonald’s drive-thru for breakfast and coffee, Louis takes the on-ramp for Interstate 40 and sets his cruise control.

“Alright, we’ll be on I-40 for the next four hours. Just wait until we start to get close to the state line. You’re not gonna believe the mountains.” Louis sounds excited, proud to show off the place he’s from. 

Harry grins at him across the console. “Yeah, can’t wait. I’ve never been to North Carolina. Never been much farther east than Nashville, actually.”

“Well, I’m not gonna pretend that there’s anything really exciting where we’re headed,” Louis says, “but the views...I know I might be a little biased but I don’t know if there’s anything prettier.”

Just then, Harry’s Hipster Playlist cuts off abruptly as Louis’ phone begins to ring. Harry sees Jay’s face on the screen.

“Pick that up, will you? It’ll go through the speakers so I can talk and drive.”

 

Harry swipes to answer the call and Louis answers. “Helloooo, my darling mother!”

“Well, hello to you too, Lou,” Jay laughs. “Y’all on the road yet?”

“Yes ma’am! We’re about twenty minutes out of Nashville.”

“Oh, honey, that’s great! I was just calling to tell you that your Great-Aunt Margaret is going to make it out for Christmas this year! When I called and told her how Harry was coming with you, she just had to make sure she got to be there to meet your new man—you know, you’re about to be thirty, honey—”

Louis’ eyes widen in shock. “Mom—no—”

Jay continues without pause. “It’s just been so long since you’ve brought anyone back home. We’re all worried about you being lonely out there! You can’t be a bachelor forever!”

“Mom, stop—”

“And Harry seems like such a nice young man! He was such a gentleman when I spoke to him on the phone yesterday!”

Louis sucks in a deep breath and narrows his eyes.

“Mom,” he begins again.

“Jay, I—” Harry starts at the same time.

“Oh! Harry, honey, hello! Lou! Why didn’t you tell me I was on speaker? Harry, I hope he wasn’t too much of a sourpuss this morning when y’all were getting around.”

A loud crash sounds from Jay’s end and her voice suddenly booms through the car’s speakers. “DORIS! How many times did I tell you to stay _away_ from the tree! Boys, I’ve got to go, we’ve got a Christmas tree catastrophe on our hands. I _swear_! See y’all soon! Bye!”

The line goes dead.

Harry sinks in his seat, face red.

Louis glances over at him before putting his eyes back on the road.

“Harry. What the _fuck_ did you say to my mother?” His voice is rising in pitch, the last word coming out as a squeak.

“She just called yesterday to check on you! I don’t know, I was busy getting your shit washed and packed! I was distracted!”

“Did you tell her that you were packing my clothes for me?”

“I—” Harry begins, then clears his throat. “Well, see, like—I was looking for your underwear and there weren’t any—”

 

“Oh my _God_ , Harry, I know you’ve never met my mom before but I would think you’ve heard enough from me to realize that she’s going to jump on anything that sounds even remotely, like, _scandalous_!” Louis is verging on hysterical by this point.

“Louis, _honestly_ , underwear aren’t scandalous—”

“You know what I mean, you- fuck- _shit_!” He punctuates his outburst of swears by slamming a hand on the steering wheel. “What the fuck do we do now? I know my mom, and if we try to deny it now she’s not going to believe it for a second!”

“Oh, come on—”

“No, Harry, listen. You know I love my mom to death, but she is always on high alert when it comes to my love life. I tried to keep it private back when I had my last serious boyfriend, years ago, but then when that ended, I was heartbroken, and it’s not like I could hide that from her. When she found out I’d been dating someone for over a year and never told her, she was so hurt.”

 

“What does that have to do with—” Harry starts.

Louis cuts him off. “Listen, I know how her mind works. Now that she has it in her head that you and me, that we’re, _you know_ , she’s not going to believe a word otherwise. Just trust me on this, okay?”

 

Harry stares straight ahead through the windshield. He swallows, afraid of the answer to his next question. “So like, do we...what do we _do_ , then?”

Louis glances over at him again, a slightly manic gleam in his eye. “You any good at acting, Styles?”

–––––

Three and a half hours, and half a dozen arguments (“This is _not_ an argument, it’s a heated discussion!” Harry had huffed) later, Louis turns into a gravel driveway that leads past a small, dilapidated farmhouse to a newer two-story house that sits further off the road. The setting is gorgeous: it’s a small valley just outside of town, surrounded by the Smoky Mountains. Harry would be more impressed if he weren’t preoccupied with the big fat _lie_ he’s landed himself in.

Louis parks his car next to a ragtop Jeep that looks like it’s seen better days. They sit for just a moment in silence, and then Louis sucks in a deep breath.

“Alright, let’s get this shitshow on the road.” He slaps his hands on his thighs and exits the car.

Harry tries to steady his breathing as he goes to open the door and get out. His hand slips on the handle. “ _Shit_ ,” he mutters under his breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he manages to open the door and stumble out of the car.

Louis is already a few paces ahead of him, both of their suitcases in hand.

“Lou, wait, let me get my—”

Louis turns toward him. “Harry, we have to sell this. If I don’t carry your suitcase, my mom will lecture me about being a gentleman. _Please_ , try to keep up,” he hisses.

Then he’s off again, marching toward the back door like a man on a mission. Harry scrambles to catch up with him.

The door flies open when they hit the top step.

“Lou, baby, you made it!” Jay rushes out onto the porch, throwing her arms around Louis’ neck and jerking him into what looks like a slightly painful hug. Louis, both suitcases in hand, can’t do anything but lean into it. Harry watches as he buries his face in his mom’s neck.

“Hey, mama.” Louis’ muffled voice sounds younger, softer. Harry blinks. _Do not get emotional right now_ , he thinks forcefully.

Jay releases Louis and shoves him toward the door, swatting his rear as she steps around him. “Now, let me get a look at this man of yours. Harry, honey, we’re so glad you’re here!”

Harry is about to reach out to shake her hand, but before he manages it, Jay is flinging herself at him just as enthusiastically as she had at Louis.

He lets out a slight _oof_ when she connects with him and cautiously brings his arms up around her back.

“Hello, Jay. Um, thanks for...for having me, I know it was so last-minute.”

“Oh, _hush_ , you! It’s no trouble at all!” She drops her arms and then immediately takes Harry by the hand. “Now, come on in, boys, come on. We went ahead and ate dinner earlier, but I have plates saved for y’all—I hope you like meatloaf, Harry, It was always Lou’s favorite, but I can make whatever you want!”

“Oh, no that’s perfect, meatloaf is fine!”

“Mama, whatever happened to that rule we used to have? You know, ‘ _If you don’t like what I made you can fix your own dinner or go hungry_?’”

Jay rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide her grin, and Harry stifles a laugh at just how much she looks like Louis when she does it. She pushes Louis toward the staircase. “Go on, put y’all’s bags in your room while I get your lunch warmed back up.”

Harry starts to follow Louis up the stairs, but Jay catches him by the arm. “Not you, honey. You sit right here and visit with me for a minute.”

She steers Harry toward a barstool at the kitchen counter and he sits, glancing nervously at Louis, who just winks at him before he dashes up the stairs.

Before Harry can worry too much about the interrogation he’s sure he’s about to face, the back door swings open again. A petite young woman with pastel pink hair comes in. _Lottie_ , Harry’s mind supplies, though her hair had been silvery blonde in the most recent photos he’d seen.

Lottie stops abruptly when she catches sight of Harry. She smirks as she looks him over. Harry is getting a little uncomfortable here.

“Charlotte, dear, close the door! Were you raised in a barn?” Jay scolds.

“Oh, mama, you know better than anyone that that’s at least half-true.” She quickly closes the door, though. Lottie rounds on Harry, smirk back on her face. “So, you’re the _boyfriend_ , huh?”

Harry tries to smile, but it feels a little more like a grimace of pain. “Uh, hi, I’m Harry. You’re Lottie, right? Are you enjoying working at the salon?”

“Ooooh, he’s done his research,” Lottie laughs. “Since you asked, yes, I am. But back to a more important topic...” Lottie raises one eyebrow and takes a step toward Harry. His palms have started to sweat again. “What are your _intentions_ with my brother?”

Harry gulps. She’s nearly a foot shorter than him. How is she so intimidating?

“ _Charlotte_! Leave the poor boy alone!” Jay chides.

Lottie takes a step back and laughs, but not before mouthing, “We’ll finish this later,” at Harry.

“Oh, mama, I forgot to tell you,” she turns away from Harry and leans on the counter. “Tommy isn’t going to make it on Christmas day after all. He’s got some cousins he hasn’t seen in a few years coming in from out of state.”

“Oh, well, we’ll miss him!” Jay puts a plate that looks like it’s about to overflow in front of Harry. “I’m glad he’s getting to spend time with them, though.”

Suddenly, there’s a crash and a jumble of loud voices from upstairs.

“What in the—” Jay starts, and then Louis appears at the foot of the stairs with two small children attached to his body.

“They’ve got me!” he cries dramatically, _loudly_ , in order to be heard over the shrieks and giggles coming from Ernest and Doris. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Lottie mutters under her breath. At this exact moment, Doris spots her and leaps from where she’s clinging to Louis’ back.

“ _LOTTIE_!” she screams, throwing her arms around Lottie’s midsection.

Ernest lets go of Louis’ leg and flies past Harry to attack Lottie as well.

“Ernest! Doris!” Jay scolds. “I know y’all are excited but _please_ can you try to keep it down?”

“C’mon, babies, let’s go find a movie to watch.” Lottie pulls the twins away toward the living room as Louis slides onto the stool next to Harry.

Jay and Louis are both looking at him with amused expressions. “They didn’t even notice him, did they?” Louis asks his mom.

“Give them a couple hours, Lou. They’ve been missing you and Lottie!” Jay laughs. “Now _eat_ , boys, Fizzy’s getting in in a couple hours and I want to visit with y’all for a bit before it gets even more hectic in this house!”

–––––

Louis shuts the bedroom door behind himself and slumps against it with a sigh of relief. Harry throws himself backward on the bed.

“I can’t believe we managed to get away so soon,” Louis says.

“ _Soon_?” Harry asks incredulously. They had sat at the kitchen counter for over an hour and a half after they finished eating, with Jay catching Louis up on all the local goings-on. They were only saved by the arrival of Felicité, Louis’ second eldest sister. She had burst through the door in a bit of a rampage, apparently having just broken up with her boyfriend of three months after finding out he was cheating on her. She had thrown an introduction at Harry and then immediately dragged Jay away from the kitchen. “Mama, _please_ , you won’t believe what he said!”

Louis just laughs weakly. “You have no idea how long she can keep it up. And listen, you got off easy. Don’t think you’re not going to get that interrogation.”

Harry groans and rolls over, burying his face in the quilt on the bed. It smells like home— _no_ , it smells like Louis. It’s just a homey smell, that’s all.

The bed dips down next to Harry. He rolls onto his side to face Louis.

“Hey, wait.” Harry looks confused. “You’ve got two more sisters. Daisy and Phoebe? The older twins? Where are they today?”

 

Louis laughs. “Oh, they’re here somewhere, I’m sure. They’re sixteen, you know.”

Harry just looks at him, brows furrowed.

“Seriously, Harry, I know you have a sister. Do you not remember her teenage years at all?”

“Guess I was just oblivious,” Harry says.

“Well, anyway.” Louis rolls over onto his back. “Normally mom would be on their case about being polite and how _rude_ it is to stay holed up in their room when we have _company_.” Louis laughs. “But I reckon they know she’s a little too distracted with getting things ready for Christmas to notice.”

Harry hums. Big families are complicated.

“You’ll see them before too long,” Louis says. “Be warned, though, they’re probably too cool for us old farts.”

Harry snorts. “No offense, Lou, but we’re not cool.”

Louis grabs a pillow and whacks him across his face. “Speak for yourself, _loser_!”

“Oh my god, you’re dead!” Harry laughs as he rolls over and pins Louis’ arms above his head. Suddenly they’re rolling around on the bed, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my _GOD_!”

Harry falls off the bed when he turns around to see Fizzy standing in the open doorway, eyes and mouth wide in shock.

“Fiz, what the _hell_ , don’t you know how to knock?” Louis snaps, but then he’s laughing again. “Oh my God, your _face_!”

Harry can’t help but laugh, still on the floor. His face is burning— _we weren’t even doing anything, you have no reason to be embarrassed, get it together_ —but Fizzy has gotten over her shock and looks amused.

“I hate to interrupt your little _rendezvous_ here, but Mom sent me to ask if you could go into town for a gallon of milk.”

Louis gets up and pulls his hoodie off the top of the dresser as Harry finally rises from the floor, reaching for his own jacket.

“No, Harry, not you. She said she needs you to help her with...something.”

“ _Fiz_ , oh my god. You know she just wants to get me out of the house so that she can interrogate him,” Louis groans.

Fizzy grins. “So? I need some good entertainment. C’mon, Harry, we didn’t get a chance to talk when I came in.” She drags him out the door as he shoots a nervous glance over his shoulder at Louis.

Louis just shrugs and mouths, “ _have fun_ ,” as he follows them down the stairs.

–––––

The door hasn’t shut behind Louis before Jay rounds on Harry, smiling widely. “So, Harry,” she begins, as she pulls out two of the barstools at the counter, gesturing for him to sit down. “How are you liking North Carolina so far?”

Okay, this is easy. Harry can do this.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous here,” he says with a smile. “The mountains are incredible.”

Jay hums in agreement. “You’re from Wisconsin, right? I guess you’re used to colder winters than this.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely. That’s why—Well I guess you know I couldn’t make it back home this year, because of the blizzard.”

Jay smiles at him, sympathy in her eyes. “Oh, hon, I know you’re probably missing them something awful! Lou says this is the first Christmas you’ve spent away?”

“Yeah, it’s...it’s tough.” Harry blinks away the tears threatening to spill over. _What the_ hell. _Keep it together_.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know.” Jay reaches out to rub between Harry’s shoulder blades. “I know it’s not the same, being here, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway. At the very least, you won’t be all by yourself.”

Harry wipes his nose on his sleeve. “ _God_ , I’m a mess, I’m so sorry.”

“Honey, no! It’s good that you love your family! I wouldn’t want my baby to be with anyone who didn’t put family first.” Jay grins. “Speaking of Lou...I never got a straight answer from him on this...”

Harry’s heart rate speeds up; he’s not sure if he’s ready to answer questions about his pretend relationship with Louis.

“Just how long have you two been an item? I know y’all have been living together for six months but Louis has been insisting since the beginning that you were _just a friend_.”

“Oh, well, yes, at the beginning we were just friends,” Harry assures her. He’s got this. They had managed, at least, to put together a believable backstory while they were on the road. “I don’t know if we can really put a date on it, to be honest with you. We just realized one day how close we had gotten, and then, you know, decided to go ahead and just...go with it.”

Harry grins a little, in spite of himself. It would make a sweet story, after all, if it happened to someone in real life.

Jay looks absolutely thrilled. “Well, sweetheart, that just sounds like it was meant to be. I know my Lou definitely seems happier than he has in forever. He always works so hard, you know. I’m glad he’s got someone to keep an eye on him out there.” She squeezes his arm and gives him another warm smile.

Harry tries to ignore the guilt churning in his stomach as he smiles back at her.

Without breaking eye contact, Jay tilts her head to the side and calls out, “I hear you over there, girls.”

Fizzy and Lottie come around the corner, laughing. They don’t look very embarrassed about being caught eavesdropping.

Fizzy opens a cabinet and turns to Harry. “Want some coffee?”

“Oh, um, yes, please.”

“Ooooh, listen to him. How polite.” Lottie grins, hoisting herself up to sit on the countertop. “Hey Fiz, get me a cup too?”

 

“Make it yourself,” Fizzy shoots back.

Lottie raises her eyebrows. “ _Okay_ then. Never mind. I’m gonna go back and finish watching Frozen with the babies, where I’m _wanted_.”

“Girls, _honestly_ , I thought we were done with all of this. Y’all are acting like Daisy and Phoebe.”

“Speaking of Daisy and Phoebe,” Lottie says. “I haven’t even seen them since I got here. You would have torn me a new one for hiding out like that with company over.”

“I saw Phoebs coming out of the bathroom earlier,” Fizzy says, setting a mug of coffee in front of Harry. “She rolled her eyes when I tried to hug her. You got any brothers or sisters, Harry?”

“Oh, just one older sister. Gemma.” Harry takes a sip of his coffee and tries not to wince when he burns his tongue. He swallows and continues. “She just had a baby, actually. My first niece.” Harry smiles.

All three women coo at him.

“Aww, what’s her name? Do you have pictures?” Jay asks, leaning over to look at Harry’s phone where it’s resting on the countertop.

“Yeah I - hold on, I can show you. Her name is Harper.” He unlocks his phone and opens up his message thread with Gemma to pull up the picture she’d sent him this morning. Harper was dressed in the onesie Harry had bought for her: _If you think I’m cute, you should see my uncle!_

Lottie and Fizzy both circle around to look at the picture. Harry can’t hold back his proud smile. “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to meet her for real.”

“Oh no, you haven’t gotten to see her yet?” Lottie asks.

“No.” Harry’s smile fades just a little. “She was born right after Thanksgiving. Just missed her by a couple of days.”

 

“You and Lou need one.” Fizzy elbows Lottie in the ribs. “This one is never gonna pop one out so Lou is my only hope at being the cool aunt before I’m old.”

Harry chokes on his coffee. His eyes are watering when he looks up to see all three women staring at him, amused. “We, uh, we haven’t—I mean,” Harry splutters.

The back door slams open. “Alright, ladies, interrogation time is over, please leave my boyfriend alone now.” Louis breezes past them with the gallon of milk he’d been sent to buy and opens the refrigerator.

“ _Mama_ ,” he turns around, one eyebrow raised and a hand on his hip. “I know we go through a lot of milk in this household, but you’ve gotta admit that three gallons in the fridge is a little excessive.”

–––––

At 6:37 p.m. everyone in the house has managed to squeeze around the dining room table and fill their plates with food. Doris and Ernest had finally noticed Harry after Louis had rescued him from the kitchen and they joined the younger twins in the living room to watch the end of Frozen. 

Doris had attached herself to him immediately. “Now I’m not the only one with curly hair. We can start a club,” she had declared.

Even Phoebe and Daisy had come out of hiding when the scent of Jay’s cooking had begun to fill the house. They hadn’t said much to Harry—but then again, they hadn’t said much to anyone else, either.

At the end of the table, Jay is busy catching up with Dan, Louis’ stepdad, who had gotten home from work just before everyone sat down to eat. To Harry’s right, Fizzy is in the middle of recounting her breakup drama to Lottie, and beyond them, Phoebe and Daisy both appear to be texting under the table. 

Harry turns to his left and catches Louis smiling at him over Doris’ and Ernest’s heads. “You doing okay over there?”

Harry smiles back. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like this.”

Louis’ grin widens even more, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad.”

–––––

“We really didn’t think this part through.”

Louis stands next to Harry at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed against his chest.

Harry hums in assent. The bed isn’t _small_ , necessarily. It’s a full-size. Not quite as roomy as a queen, for sure, but better than a twin.

“I mean, we fall asleep on the couch all the time?” Harry turns to face Louis. “Like, usually we’re drunk and your feet are in my face, but if we can manage that…”

“Guess you’re right. We’re gonna have to manage, anyway.” Louis flicks on the lamp on the side table and then goes back to turn off the overhead light. “I’m not making you sleep in the floor, but I’m sure as hell not sleeping in the floor either.”

Harry chuckles as he takes off his shirt. “So accomodating. I’m really feeling that _Southern Hospitality_.”

Louis turns the quilt back and pats the space beside him on the bed. “C’mon, I’m beat. Bedtime.”

Harry slides under the covers and Louis turns off the lamp. They settle into the bed, back to back, and it’s quiet for a few moments.

“Lou?” Harry whispers.

“I’m asleep,” Louis replies.

Harry grins into the darkness. “Thanks again, Louis. Really.”

Louis feels warm all over. Somehow, his tired brain can’t find the words to respond. He reaches behind himself and squeezes Harry’s arm.

“Night, Lou,” Harry whispers.

–––––

At 2:14 a.m., Louis turns over in his sleep and throws an arm across Harry’s torso. Neither of them wake.

–––––

Louis wakes up sweating, with a mouthful of curls.

He blinks in the bright morning light streaming through the sheer curtains and pulls his face away from the back of Harry’s head. It takes a moment for his brain to engage, and he jerks backward as soon as he realizes he’s spooning Harry.

The sudden movement wakes Harry, but he doesn’t seem bothered. “Morning, sunshine,” he says around a yawn, his voice rough with sleep. “You’re warm.”

Okay, so maybe he’s not all the way awake yet.

“Uh, yeah, morning. I’m gonna go downstairs and see if anyone made breakfast.” Louis attempts to untangle himself from the blankets—and from Harry—but stops when he feels Harry’s hand on his arm. He turns, one leg already off the side of the bed.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Harry says with a grin, the quilt pulled up to his chin.

Louis smiles back at him. “Thanks, babe.”

 

 _Whoa. Babe? Where did that come from?_ Louis is about to try to backtrack, but Harry doesn’t seem to have noticed, because he sits up and announces, “I’m going to make pancakes.”

Louis shrugs. “I’m not gonna turn down birthday pancakes.”

Harry grins and gets out of bed, stretching his arms above his head. Louis stares at him for a moment. He’d never noticed before just how long Harry’s torso is.

“You fall back asleep for a second there?” Harry asks with a laugh.

“Ah, just zoned out. So. Pancakes?”

“Pancakes,” Harry confirms, then leads the way downstairs.

–––––

Harry’s pancakes are a hit. Jay had been on her way out the door when they made it to the kitchen, claiming she had some last-minute groceries to pick up at Wal-Mart for Christmas dinner.

Lottie and the younger twins had been curled up in the living room watching _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ with steaming mugs in hand––coffee for Lottie, hot chocolate for Ernest and Doris. When Louis had peeked in and mentioned pancakes, the twins had screamed with glee.

“Let us help, Harry! We can make pancakes! Mama always lets us help!”

Harry, to his credit, had simply smiled and caught them both as they flew into the kitchen, gently directing them to stand at the counter as he located the ingredients he needed.

Several pancakes, and only one piece of eggshell later (thanks to Ernest, Louis is fairly certain), Louis is full and happy on the living room couch. Doris is on his lap, her head leaned back on his shoulder, and Ernest is tucked up against his left side. Harry sits to his right, a few inches of space between them.

Lottie’s stretched out on the well-worn recliner across the room, and she keeps shooting glances their way.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Louis finally snaps.

Lottie laughs. “Oh, come on, Lou. You don’t have to hold back around us. We all know you’re the biggest cuddle bug in this family. No one cares if Harry lays on you while we’re watching TV.”

Louis glances at Harry. Maybe they had been acting a little too platonic so far. Harry shrugs minutely and closes the gap between them, hooking his arm through Louis’ and leaning against his side.

Lottie gives them a final triumphant glance before turning her full attention back to the TV.

–––––

“Lottie, hey, come here for a second,” Louis hisses from the hallway. Harry is spread out on the floor, attempting to coach Ernest and Doris through a game of Monopoly. It’s going about as well as can be expected with two rowdy seven-year-olds.

Lottie sidles out of the living room and leans against the wall, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “What’s up, bub?”

“Listen, first of all, you can’t breathe a _word_ of this to our mother,” Louis begins. Lottie’s eyebrow raises even more.

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair. “So Harry and me, we’re not––he’s not really my boyfriend.”

Lottie laughs. “Yeah, okay, Louis. What did you really want to talk about?”

He groans. “No, Lottie, for real. Mom got the wrong idea when she talked to Harry on the phone the day before we came out here, and you know how she is. Especially since the whole ordeal with Jake.” He still feels guilty about how hurt his mom had been when he had tried to explain that he just wanted to keep _something_ about his life to himself, for once. He knows he could have handled it differently, but it had been a weird time in his life, living in a different state from his family for the first time.

Lottie’s eyebrows draw together. “So you and Harry really aren’t...but I could’ve sworn––anyway. The question is, why in the hell didn’t you set things straight when you realized she had jumped to the wrong conclusion?”

“We _tried_ , Lottie, I swear! But you know how she gets, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and then she was hanging up the phone and I just felt like shit so we just. Decided to go with it, I guess.”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Lou, you’re thirty years old. How are you still such a baby?”

Louis narrows his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her.

She snorts. “Not helping your case there, bub. But hey. You know if you try to tell her the truth about it now she’s going to be even more pissed because you let it go so long.”

“I know, Lottie, I _know_! So what the fuck do I do?”

Lottie smirks. “I mean, you only have one option, right? Keep it up til y’all go home, then stage a breakup at some point in the future. Preferably when your lease is up so she doesn’t keep asking you awkward questions as long as y’all still live together.”

Louis sighs and thumps his head against the wall behind him. He knows she’s right. There’s no way out of this now.

–––––

_“Happy biiiirthday to youuuuuu!”_

Harry snaps a photo on his cell phone as Louis grins and blows out the candles. From across the table, Jay calls out, “Boys! Look over here and smile. I need a picture of y’all together!”

They both grin and lean in. Harry wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him a little closer. Just as Jay is about to snap another picture (she must have taken a dozen already), Harry turns, quick as lightning, and plants a smacking kiss on Louis’ cheek.

 _Wow, that_ ––okay, they had discussed amping up the acting a little bit after Louis’ conversation with Lottie. But they had just agreed to sit a little closer, maybe hold hands a few times. Kissing had not been brought up at all. Louis feels like his face is on fire.

Lottie smirks at them as Fizzy whistles appreciatively and Ernest and Doris both cry, “ _Ewww_!”

Jay’s face lights up behind her phone. “Oh, boys, that one is perfect! Y’all are just so sweet. Dan, look at this picture! We need to get this one printed!” She pushes her phone at Dan and he grins. “It’s a good one,” he agrees.

Phoebe and Daisy – without their phones, for once – just look at each other and roll their eyes.

When everyone is distracted by birthday cake and ice cream, and Harry leans a little closer to Louis. “Was that okay? I’m sorry, we didn’t talk about that,” he whispers. His lips brush Louis’ ear and he shivers. _It just tickles, is all_.

Louis shakes himself mentally and then pastes on a grin. “Yeah, no, it was fine! You just surprised me.”

 

Harry smiles. “Alright, well, if you say so. I just want to make this as easy for you as I can. Your family is great, I can see why you’d want to keep them happy.”

 

Louis forces away the guilt that tries to creep in. “Yeah, they’re––I love them a lot, you know. Mom has been worried about me being alone, so. I just want her to relax about it for a while.”

“You’re a good son.” Harry squeezes Louis with the arm that’s still draped across his shoulders.

Louis feels warm all over, and he’s not sure right now if it’s only because of the overcrowded dining room.

–––––

A few hours later, Harry and Louis are back in Louis’ bedroom getting ready to call it a night. It’s late, and tomorrow is going to be a busy day, so Louis knows that he needs to get some sleep.

There’s just one slight problem.

See, after birthday cake and ice cream, the entire family had piled into the living room to watch _It’s A Wonderful Life_ together, as they had done on Christmas Eve before bed for as long as Louis can remember. With ten people, two couches, and one recliner, things had gotten...cozy.

Lottie and Fizzy had claimed the recliner, snuggled up like they were still kids instead of young women in their early twenties. Dan and Jay had been on the full-size couch, with Ernest and Doris spread out between them, heads in their laps. Even Phoebe and Daisy had joined in, sitting on the floor and leaning against their mom’s legs.

That left Harry and Louis to claim the loveseat. It was small, just two cushions, but it was soft and comfortable. Louis had sat with his back against the armrest, facing the TV, and Harry had immediately slotted himself between his legs, back to his chest.

After two hours of Harry’s warmth against his chest, with his heart full to bursting with how much he loves his family, Louis is wired. He’s not sure what is going on in his head, or his heart, or his body, but he knows sleep isn’t going to come easy tonight.

Harry, on the other hand, still looks half-asleep. He’d passed out about halfway through the movie and had to be woken up to go upstairs to bed.

Harry yawns from the bed, where he’s already climbed under the covers. “You gonna get the lights? ‘M sleepy.”

His voice is soft and syrupy-slow like molasses. Louis’ heart rate doubles.

“Yeah, I’m––I’m getting it now.” Louis turns the light off without turning on his bedside lamp, silently blessing the darkness that now hides his face from Harry.

He slides under the quilt and gasps out loud when Harry immediately throws an arm and a leg over his body.

“Whoa, hey there.” Louis laughs nervously. He feels Harry’s shoulders shift in a shrug.

“Wasn’t done being snuggly. Rumor has it that you’re okay with it anyway.” His voice is muffled by Louis’ collarbone.

Louis concentrates on regulating his breathing. Clearly he’s just gone too long without affectionate contact with another human being. His body is reacting _completely_ naturally.

“Yeah, alright. You win.” Louis cautiously brings an arm up around Harry’s back. He lays awake in the darkness for some time, long after Harry’s breaths have evened out in sleep.

–––––

Just after 5:00 a.m. on Christmas morning, Ernest and Doris wake everyone in the Tomlinson-Deakin house with their screams as they rush down the stairs.

Harry blinks a few times before opening his eyes and poking Louis gently in the ribs.

“Lou. _Lou_. Wake up.”

“ _Mmpf_.”

Harry laughs. “C’mon, the babies are up. Don’t you wanna see them open their presents?”

“‘S not morning. Still dark,” Louis grumbles, but he rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed anyway.

Harry scoots across the bed and sits beside him. The mattress dips with their weight, and they end up pressed together, knee to shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” Louis’ mouth is right against his ear, his voice still raspy with sleep. Harry is struck with a sudden, inexplicable urge to turn his face to the side and catch Louis’ lips with his own.

 _What the fucking_ fuck? _Where did that come from?_

Before Harry can get a grip on his inner turmoil, Louis is rising from the bed and ambling toward the door.

“C’mon, Styles. Gotta see what Santa brought.”

–––––

Christmas morning is, in a word, chaotic. Doris and Ernest had both gotten new, big-kid bicycles, and in an uncharacteristic show of enthusiasm, Daisy and Phoebe had taken them out to the driveway to help them get accustomed to riding them.

Lottie, Fizzy, Harry, and Louis have helped clear away the wrapping paper and boxes from both sets of twins’ gifts, and Jay and Dan begin sorting through the stack of smaller boxes and bags still under the tree.

“It’s so hard to buy for my big babies,” Jay laments. “Y’all won’t ever tell me what you really want.”

“Mama, honestly,” Fizzy says as she plucks a small bag from Dan’s hand. “I truly mean it when I say that a gift card for gas is the best present I could ever get. That’s like...money I can spend at Starbucks instead of putting gas in my car.”

Jay huffs. “Well, it’s not a very _exciting_ present.”

On the couch, Lottie is opening a box that contains a shiny new set of hair shears. “Oh, _wow_ , mama, I’m _so_ surprised. I can’t believe you knew the _exact_ shears I wanted.”

“Oh, _hush_ , you smart alec.”

Harry grins as he watches them playfully interact with each other. Jay’s face lights up when she opens the gift certificate for a weekend cabin getaway with Dan, courtesy of her three eldest children. Louis laughs at the package of brightly colored socks from his mom, and then hugs her tightly when he sees the framed family portrait at the bottom of the box, more recent than any of the ones currently hanging in the apartment.

He’s content to just sit and watch them all, not expecting any gifts of his own, when Dan pulls a the final bag from under the tree. He glances at the tag. “Harry, this one’s yours.”

“ _Mine_? Y’all didn’t have to––”

“Oh, Harry, shut up and take it.” Louis elbows him and grins.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you,” Harry stammers as he takes the bag from Dan.

He carefully removes the tissue paper and reaches inside to pull out his gift.

“Oh,” he softly exhales. “It’s beautiful.”

Harry turns the thick, leather bound journal over in his hands. “Is that––” He looks closer. “Is that my initials?”

Louis leans farther into him. “Yeah, I––well, I was gonna give it to you when we both got back home, but. Now you’re here.”

Harry looks away from the journal and stares at Louis. “When did you have time to get this?”

Louis rubs the back of his neck and looks sheepish. “I got it awhile back, actually. Saw it and thought you needed a new one since that old one of yours keeps trying to fall apart.”

“Lou, I didn’t––I don’t have anything for you,” Harry mutters, embarrassed.

“No, hey, stop.” Louis tilts Harry’s chin back up with a gentle finger. “You don’t have to get me anything. You’re here with me. That’s a good enough Christmas gift for anyone.”

If possible, Harry grows even more embarrassed. This time, it’s because of the butterflies in his stomach from having Louis’ gaze focused on him.

Suddenly, Louis seems to remember that they aren’t alone in the living room. Fortunately, it seems as though everyone but Lottie is distracted with their own gifts. Lottie meets Louis’ eyes across the room and she raises a questioning eyebrow.

Louis pretends not to notice.

–––––

So maybe Harry _wasn’t_ prepared for Christmas dinner with Louis’ family.

Everything so far had been wonderful, but that was just Louis’ immediate family. Now, what appears to be an endless stream of aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends are steadily coming through the door. Harry has introduced himself so many times that his name doesn’t even sound like a real word to him anymore.

Louis takes a moment to point out Great-Aunt Margaret, the one who had been desperate to meet Louis’ “ _new man_.” Margaret grasps Harry’s hand in her own wrinkled ones with surprising strength for an eighty-seven-year-old.

“You better be good to our Louis, young man,” she says. She sounds so _threatening_. Is this where Lottie learned it?

He glances over her head at Louis, who is barely holding in his laughter.

“Oh, I––yes, ma’am.” Harry ducks his head. He’s always considered himself to be charming, suave. Great-Aunt Margaret gives his fingers one last painful squeeze before clutching her cane and turning away. “Where did Johannah hide the wine? Just because I’m an old woman…”

Louis slides into the space she left and grins at Harry. “You survived Margaret. I think you’ll make it.”

Harry exhales roughly. “Honestly? She scares me. I’m impressed, but also terrified.”

“C’mon then.” Louis loops his arm through Harry’s. “Let’s follow her and see if she finds that wine.”

–––––

Harry is _not_ drunk. He’s just a little bit tipsy. His cheeks are only flushed because it’s so warm in this crowded house.

Louis pokes his cheek. “Dimples…”

Harry grins wider. “‘S not like you never seen ‘em before!”

“Yeah, I know. I was just...observing.” Louis giggles. Is _Louis_ drunk? No way. They hadn’t had _that_ much wine.

They’re tucked in a corner of the living room, leaning against the wall next to each other while various groups of others have gathered throughout the house. Louis had tried to explain how everyone was related, but Harry had zoned out on the specifics, content to lean slightly on Louis and let his voice wash over him.

Two shadows fall across them, breaking them out of their bubble. They look up at the same time.

“Whatcha doing?” Phoebe (or is it Daisy?) asks Louis.

“Just giving Harold here a basic rundown of the who’s who in Haywood County,” Louis pokes Harry’s dimple again and grins.

Daisy (Phoebe? How does anyone keep up?) looks at Harry. “Whatcha got there, Harry?” she asks sweetly, trying not-so-subtly to take his wineglass from him.

“Dais!” Louis chides. _I was right_ , Harry thinks in triumph. “You can’t have any wine, kiddo.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Lou, you were sixteen once. Do you really think we’ve never drank?” Phoebe tries to take Louis’ wineglass. After a brief struggle, in which the wine nearly spills, Louis finally relents.

“Okay, okay, _one_ sip each.” Phoebe grins at Daisy. She plucks Louis’ glass from his hand and before he can stop them, they’re halfway across the room.

“Oh my _God_ , I can’t believe they just played me like that,” Louis groans. “Honestly, I’m more impressed than anything. I couldn’t have gotten away with that shit at their age.”

Harry laughs. “You mean you weren’t always as charming as you are now?” _Shit. What?_

Louis grins at him and leans a few inches closer. Harry can feel his breath when he exhales.

“What, you think I’m _charming_?”

Harry gulps. He’s saved from answering, or so he thinks, by a loud cry from behind him.

“Oh my God, look!” Fizzy is pointing at a something above their heads.

Slowly, Harry raises his eyes to the ceiling. Right above his head, tied with a red velour ribbon, is a bundle of mistletoe.

He closes his eyes for just a second, then cautiously looks back at Louis. He’s just opening his mouth to say something – anything – when Louis pitches forward, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing him.

–––––

Harry says goodbye to Margaret – “I’m not through with you yet, young man,” she had ominously whispered as he leaned down for a rib-crushing hug – and glances up at Louis, who is collecting various dishes and empty wine glasses around the living room. Louis catches him staring and gives him a strange look. It’s almost challenging, but his mouth is turned up at one corner, softening the expression.

Harry blinks a few times and then breaks eye contact. They hadn’t really spoken after the kiss; Louis had been corralled into a long conversation with a cousin who had moved abroad after their time together at college, and Harry had been drafted into making hot chocolate with Ernest and Doris.

Now, though, the younger twins have long since gone to sleep, and the girls have all settled in the living room to watch a movie. Harry suspects that Lottie was more willing to indulge Daisy and Phoebe in their quest for wine.

Jay and Dan are in the kitchen, washing dishes and putting away leftovers, and Jay had insisted that once Louis and Harry have finished collecting the plates and glasses left behind they should “ _get some alone time, I know y’all need it_.” Harry had tried – and failed – to hide the blush that had heated his face when she winked at them.

He dawdles a bit in the dining room, pretending to check, once again, that he’s collected all the dishes from the party. He is _not_ stalling, thank you very much.

“Think we’ve got it all.”

 

Harry jumps, startled when Louis puts a hand on his shoulder. “Jesus _Christ_ , don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Louis grins, but his expression falls a little when he sees the look on Harry’s face.

“Harry…” He drops his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You’re not–– Are you upset about that kiss? I know we haven’t done that but I felt a little cornered. But I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s not uncomfortable with kissing Louis at _all_. It had felt so natural, so right. That’s not normal, right? Not when you kiss your platonic best friend and roommate?

He reaches up and squeezes Louis’ shoulder. “No, hey, it’s no problem. ‘M just tired.”

Louis looks relieved, but there’s still a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “Why don’t you head on up to bed, okay? I’ll take care of everything else down here.”

Normally, Harry would never leave someone else to finish cleaning up alone when he’s a guest in their home. But he’s grateful for this out that Louis is giving him, so he nods and heads for the stairs.

In the quiet of Louis’ bedroom, Harry allows himself a moment to succumb to the blind panic that’s been growing since the moment Louis’ lips had touched his and he had realized that he didn’t want to stop pretending to be Louis’ boyfriend when they left this house.

He turns on the lamp, undresses quickly, and slides under the covers on his side of the bed. He’s just managing to calm himself down, to convince his heart that it had simply been a physical reaction to kissing an attractive man, _nothing_ to do with Louis at all, when he hears footsteps ascending the stairs. His heart rate doubles and his palms start to sweat.

 _Get it the fuck together, what_ are _you, a middle-schooler with a crush?_

The door opens. Panicking, Harry bolts upright in bed. Louis has a fierce, determined look on his face.

“Harry, I–”

 

“Lou, can–”

They both stop, breath ragged, staring at each other from across the room. Louis’ eyes flick upward, for just a second, and then he quietly closes the door. His expression has grown unbearably soft.

Confused, Harry looks up. “ _Mistletoe_ …” he whispers.

Louis chuckles. “If Lottie did this, I swear to _God_.” His voice is quiet; unwilling to break the softness of the moment.

“Harry, listen. I didn’t– I can’t…” He crosses to the bed and sits down on the edge, cautiously reaching out to brush Harry’s hair back from his face. “When I kissed you I thought, ‘ _okay, this is all just part of the act_.’ But then I just...didn’t want to stop.”

Harry feels like his heart is about to burst. He tries to open his mouth, to say something – _anything_ – but his voice has left him. They just look at each other in silence for a moment. Harry closes his eyes. Louis’ hand is still in his hair.

“Harry…” he whispers. “Tell me if it wasn’t the same for you.”

Harry opens his eyes. _Words_...he can answer. Louis is still waiting for him to answer.

“Lou, I–” Harry cuts himself off. He takes a deep breath, then pointedly lifts his gaze back to the mistletoe hanging above the bed. He looks back at Louis with a wide grin, before closing the distance between them.

“Never gonna stop kissing you now,” he whispers against Louis’ lips as he reaches behind him to turn off the lamp, pulling the quilt over their heads.

–––––

At 11:58 p.m. on December 31, Louis glances at Harry from across their living room. They had invited Niall and Liam over to ring in the new year with pizza and cheap champagne.

They had _not_ breathed a word of the new nature of their relationship since returning home.

Niall leans over from his position on the couch to pick up the TV remote and raise the volume. “Shut up, y’all, it’s almost time!”

On TV, the crowd in New York City is loudly counting down the seconds to midnight.

Louis quietly moves across the room, dropping into the seat next to Harry.

_“Ten!”_

Harry leans a little closer to Louis and grins.

_“Nine!”_

Louis casually slips an arm around Harry’s waist.

_“Eight!”_

Niall and Liam both sit up, and all four of them join in the count.

_“Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three!”_

Harry and Louis turn toward each other, bright grins on both their faces.

_“Two! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”_

When they lean in for a kiss, it takes just a moment, and then–

“You _fuckers_! Liam, you owe me fifty bucks!”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://wildwomanofthewoods.tumblr.com/post/154997904477)!


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